Black Magic and Forbidden
by ByrdIsTheWyrd
Summary: Ezreal finds himself in a bit of trouble when he completes his first class practicum, and a vampire is bound to his will. Vlad/Ez, rated for blood and future content.
1. Chapter 1: Binding

"And what are the primary rules for binding a familiar?"

As usual, nobody would meet the old professor's eyes. She glared around, trying to find the weakest link, the kid who was sleeping or not paying attention or wouldn't know the answer.

"Ezreal, would you mind not doodling? Stand up straight and explain to the class all the major rules of binding. In order, if you please."

Ezreal looked up from his anatomical study of a dragon wing, his eyes narrowed and his mouth curved down in an annoyed frown. He stood, just as she had asked, and fixed her with a piercing glare.

"Rule one," he began in a confident voice, making a show of counting it on his finger, "never bind a being with capacity for logical thought. The difficult magic or the offended party may kill you, and succeeding is black magic and forbidden," he recited, word-for-word, as it was written in the original text. "Rule two: attempting or succeeding to bind another person's familiar is black magic and forbidden." He ticked another one off on his fingers. "And rule three: the binding of any creature that feeds on humans without the express permission of the Institution will be ruled as black magic and forbidden; furthermore, using any familiar to attack another human without significant provocation is black magic and forbidden." He cocked an eyebrow and smiled faintly at the professor, daring her to find anything wrong with his answer.

"Yes very good," she waved dismissively, "you may sit."

Ezreal's annoyed frown came back in an instant. Had she not realized that he'd memorized the text? God, he couldn't wait to get out of this cock-and-bull classroom and do something worthwhile. He flopped back into his chair and started on a diagram of the moon phases in the margin of his notes. Luna Silens, Prima Phasis, Primus Sextilius Aspectus... and then the shapes and their associations. His notes for his reagents class were just as badly cluttered as these - his elementary ritual notes.

The curricula was boring and useless so far, the staff too preoccupied with making absolutely sure that every student wouldn't become some forbidden "black wizard" to teach them anything more complex than a healing potion. Anything that could be used in any way to hurt or inconvenience anyone was not taught until the staff had deemed each one of them "trustworthy." Ezreal hadn't seen a single student near his age be labelled as such. He'd been in classes for almost five years now, having been forced to enroll at the age of ten. And yet, he'd done nothing but mix potion bases, practice drawing circles, learn runic alphabets, and read endless theories. He knew his learning was much faster than his classmates, and he'd even been given permission to check out upper-level magic theory tomes from the Institution library, though he'd had to teach himself Latin to understand them. But it was all missing some piece, some small speck of information that made the spells work. Ezreal had tried a few; forbidden or no, he just wanted to do something worthwhile, but nothing had happened. He was frustrated, and he was painfully bored. That's why his ears pricked at the word "practicum."

"Your homework for this week is your first practicum. You must find a minor creature, in the same level of classification as an imp or salamander, and perform a successful binding spell on it. If you cannot find a creature such as these, at least bring in a common animal, something small like a rabbit. You will then be graded on your care of this familiar over the course of the class, so be sure to bind something hardier than a goldfish if you'd like to pass. I expect a full write up of your experiences. That will be all."

Ezreal threw his parchment and his tomes back into his rucksack, barely able to contain his excitement. An actual spell! He'd finally be able to show them. He was ready for more, he could be moved up to a class that challenged him. It was his time to shine!

As he ran back to the cottage his parents had constructed for him, his mind raced. What would he go and find? What would he impress the professor with? Settling for a rat or a songbird was out of the question. Perhaps he could bind a minor elemental? No, then the Institution would know he was using summoning spells he shouldn't know yet. Perhaps a salamander? That seemed like a copout, and fire salts were only so useful. And then it hit him, tomorrow night would be the middle of the decreasing crescent moon phase, and unicorn summoning only required a silver amulet, a virgin, and some patience. Unicorn hair was incredibly powerful, and could fill the role of many reagents. Horn shavings had immense healing properties. Unicorn blood was powerful, as well as unicorn tears. All of these products were so incredibly rare these days, as the remaining herds broke apart and became even more skittish than normal. So called "breeders" refused to breed in captivity, and were few to begin with. What better to show the Institute higher-ups that he was capable and gifted? He nodded, his mind made up. Tomorrow night, he would complete the perfect summoning ritual and the perfect binding spell, and impress everyone by riding to school on his new familiar. That would show them all.

* * *

As Ezreal sat in a clearing deep in the forest, all alone in the middle of the night, he wondered if he'd done something wrong. He'd been here for hours already, and no unicorn had showed up. He'd buried the silver amulet beneath a juniper bush by the light of the decreasing crescent, and then waited nearby with his reagents ready for a binding spell. Half an hour later, he'd decided to perform the binding ritual up to the last step, and have it ready when his unicorn came along. He'd spread the salt circle inside the ring which he had scratched into the black dirt. He sat inside, a small fire of yew branches and rosemary at his feet. The pile of dried branches he'd brought was dwindling now, and he was starting to hope he wouldn't need the spell promoter if a unicorn did show. He sat beside his small bronze bowl, filled with sage leaves, cinnamon sticks, and vanilla beans he had burned. In his hands, a black culter knife.

He was poised to press the blade into his palm, the final step of the binding ritual. All he needed to do to center the spell on a subject was touch it or mark it with his blood. Then it would be bound and would follow his every order. Now he just needed that unicorn to come along before he nodded off.

A branch snapped someplace in the darkness. Ezreal's back straightened, and he squinted into the darkness between the trees. He pressed the blade to his palm, ready to slice down at a moment's notice. Had there been movement? He craned his neck one way, then the other, his heart pounding in his chest. He waited for the length of five deep breaths. Then twenty five. Then fifty five. The only sounds were the rustling of wind in the leaves and the crackling of his tiny fire. It had burned down to cinders now. Ezreal shivered in the icy night air, but refused to take the blade from his palm to adjust his wool cloak.

He yawned hugely, then shuffled about to cross his legs. Was the moon even still out? Should he just pack up and go home? He rolled his shoulders a few times, trying to stay alert. But it was no use; his eyes closed for a moment.

Something snarled and sprang at Ezreal. In blind panic, he did the one thing he'd been concentrating on for hours. The culter sliced across his palm easily, and he threw a hand up in front of his face. Whatever attacked him collided with his open hand and the dripping blood.

It instantly dropped to the dirt as if he'd beaten it unconscious, its upper half across Ezreal's lap.

Ezreal's eyes widened in terror. It was...he shifted under its weight...it was a human. A young man. He wore rags made from what looked like burlap and wool, and possibly some scraps of animal fur and sinew. He was filthy with mud and blood and bits of dried vegetation stuck to him, scraped from running through thorns and branches and sharp leaves.  
His hair was a strange shade, too filthy to properly decipher. It hung in a matted mess around his face. The man's skin was pale, unhealthily so, and he looked too thin around his bare ribs. Ezreal would have thought him a poor homeless boy who'd been driven into the forest for the sins of his parents if it weren't for his teeth.

Two fangs, bared in a snarl. His tongue poked from between his sharp teeth as he set to lap up the blood.

The blood Ezreal had smeared across his face.

The blood that completed the ritual.

Ezreal yanked his hand away in fear and disgust. A vampire. He hoped the ritual hadn't worked, he hoped he had failed for the first time in his life.

"Sit," Ezreal ordered, his voice shaking.

The man roared in anger, and after a moment of struggling, he leaned back and plopped on the ground with his legs crossed. His sharp nails dug lines across Ezreal's circle and he spat like an angry cat. But it didn't matter, the damage had already been done.

"Oh no," Ezreal whispered, staring at the dripping laceration on his hand. There was no way to unbind a familiar once the blood ritual had succeeded.

The words "this is black magic, and forbidden," drummed against his skull, stirring him into further panic. He would be driven out of town, left to fend for himself, or possibly executed so the bond would be lifted. His parents would suffer too, just by sharing a name with him.

He grabbed the ragged old tome he'd brought with to double-check the ritual before performing it. Maybe it would have some other information about binding and familiars that he could use. He flipped through the yellowing pages marked with feathers and dried leaves, trying to keep his breathing under control.

The word "familiar" caught his eye, and he jammed his finger against the page to hold the spot. He skimmed up to the beginning of the chapter, and then read.

"Theory on unbinding a familiar: a compendium."

There's a chance. Ezreal skipped a few lines, trying to find any relevant information.

"There have been a few cases of a familiar being unbound from its master. Most of these cases resulted from the untimely death of the wizard who bound it, a well documented process, but remarkably in these cases, the deaths were caused by the beast they tamed. Whether they were weak of will or poor of practice is unknown to the author of this book, though both options should be considered."  
Well that's right out. Ezreal skimmed a bit further, until he found a list. It gave the species of every known creature that had been bound throughout recorded history, and after reading through it twice, he cursed. Vampire wasn't listed. There would be no theories on how to unbind one if none had ever been bound.

The vampire was snarling now, trying to stand but forced to stay seated by Ezreal's order. His eyes were positively wild with rage and panic. Ezreal didn't know what to do.

"Stop that noise!" he snapped, and the vampire fell silent. His eyes opened wide as he put his hands up to his mouth. He tried to yell, but no sound would come out.

"Oh dammit what do I do?" Ezreal pleaded with the sky, pacing back and forth in front of the bewildered vampire and chewing his lip. His nails bit into his cheeks. He clutched at the skin there, hoping the pain would jog his memory or help him come up with a plan. Nothing. His mind remained blank with fear.

He couldn't rid himself of the vampire. And as a familiar, the vampire would try his hardest to keep Ezreal from harm. Ezreal had to keep him. But he couldn't be caught with a sapient, human-killing creature at his command or he would be exiled or executed.

Maybe there was something at his cottage. Maybe he had an old book with information he'd forgotten about. Maybe it would be okay. He just needed to get home and clear his head. He breathed deeply, and made up his mind.

"Okay, vampire. Walk close to me, and don't make a sound." Ezreal picked up his things, stamped out the fire, and dragged his foot across the circles in the dirt. He remembered to dig up his silver amulet; no use leaving that behind.

His new familiar stayed exactly five feet away from Ezreal as if being pulled by an invisible leash. He made it very obvious that he wanted no part of Ezreal's orders, but he had no choice in the matter. However, his eyes never left the cut on Ezreal's palm, which had scabbed over by the time they reached the city walls.

The stone walls stood about twelve feet high, just enough to discourage bandits and most kinds of monsters. It didn't work as well against wandering teenage boys, however, as evidenced by the practiced way Ezreal pulled a length of rope out from under a nearby bush and threw it over the side. When he was satisfied that the loop on top had caught a sturdy merlon, he hoisted himself up and over agilely. Before he hoisted himself over the top, he looked back down to see if the vampire had followed him. He frowned. The monster was nowhere in sight.

Ezreal sighed, heaved his body over the wall, and unhooked the rope as soon as he was safely on top. Who cares? If the monster ran off, that would solve his troubles. It would be problematic that the vampire was both bound to him and running wild, but at least Ezreal wouldn't be found out.

He easily lassoed the inner merlon, and gazed down at the sprawling farm fields all encircling the inner wall. Inside that wall lay the majority of the city's population: the Institution, the Courthouse, Parliament, and the buildings that housed as many people as possible crammed against the sides of the walls. His cottage was outside the main city, thankfully, but still a good twenty minute walk from here.

Something moved below him - a guard? He ducked under the lip of the crenellations, and peeked out.

His vampire, mouth turned down in an impatient sneer, was shifting his weight from foot to foot at the bottom of the wall. What the...? Ezreal boggled for a moment. He hadn't seen him scale the wall, let alone climb down the other side.

He clambered down the other side and unhooked the rope, taking it with him this time. He side-eyed the vampire, wondering how he'd climbed the wall in no time flat, but the beast wouldn't meet his gaze. Could they really climb that well? Ezreal made a mental note to read up on vampires just as soon as he figured out what to do with this one.

The sun was already poking over the horizon when Ezreal arrived at his tiny cottage. The vampire snarled at the beams and held his hand above his eyes, but didn't burst into flames or anything when the sunlight hit him.

"Get inside, hurry," Ezreal hissed as he wrestled the door open. It stuck a little against the floor, but Ezreal was used to forcing it open with his shoulder by now. Ezreal's nearest neighbor lived a few acres over, but he wasn't about to take any chances. His vampire made a face of disgust, but did as he was told.

He looked a bit more relaxed now that he was out of the sun, but grimaced at everything in the cottage. Sure, Ezreal wasn't the neatest person, but apart from his unkempt bed and the toppling stack of books piled on and around his desk, it wasn't that bad. If anything, this new familiar was the one making his cottage filthy. He scowled at his matted hair and grubby rags. Those would have to go.

"Okay, I'm going to run you some bath water, and then you're going to wash up while I find some way to fix this."

The vampire made no indication that he understood. Ezreal grumbled, and pushed open the bathroom door.

Thankfully, living in a cottage so close to the largest magic university in the world meant that water at any temperature could be transported to his home in a matter of minutes. He remembered the old days of hauling and boiling pump water, and shuddered. Magic was so convenient when learned properly. He plugged the drain, cranked the temperature knob to hot, and pressed the valve in. The pipes rattled, and a steaming spray burst out of the spigot. He squirted in a copious amount of soap, because that vampire sure could use it. The foamy lather filled the small cottage tub within a few minutes.

"Hey you," Ezreal called into the other room, "get in here so you can take your bath."

The vampire shuffled in, teeth clenched and hunched over as if ready to spring.

"Okay, take off your, uh, those things." Ezreal motioned at the rags strapped over the beast's hips and shoulders, marvelling at how little they really covered. He turned to the side and looked away. He wasn't quite ready to find out what kind of anatomy vampires had, and he especially did not need to stare at a naked man of all things. "Just put them on the floor and get in the tub."

Ezreal heard him sink in with a loud splash and an angry hiss.

"Lay back far enough to put your hair in the water," he instructed, and heard the water splash accordingly. "Don't drown, and just soak to get the dirt off. I'll be back in a little while."

Could vampires even drown? Oh well, he'd have to look that up at some point too. The binding was obviously strong enough where he wouldn't drown himself now, so he would have to satisfy his curiosity later.

He escaped the steamy bathroom and closed the door behind himself. There, now his house wouldn't smell like mud and cooked... whatever it was vampires smelled like. Blood, maybe? What did cooked blood smell like?

Ezreal pulled out the chair at his desk and flopped into it. His body was starting to slow with fatigue, but his mind was still sharp. He tugged a few leather-bound books he'd borrowed from the Institute library onto his huge desk. They seemed promising. He cracked the first open, the blue spine cracking with age. "An Encyclopaedic Look at Sub-Human Creatures" read the header in crisp, small lettering. Ezreal flipped towards the back, looking for the Vs. "Undead...Undine...Vaettir...aha, Vampire." He stabbed the book with his finger, amazed at how short the entry was compared to almost every other creature. He muttered aloud. "Vampires are known to subsist on human blood for sustenance...Vampires will kill without hesitation...It is not known how or even if vampires reproduce...They have an aversion to sunlight, garlic, fire, can't cross running water, and will be forced to count small grains of sand or rice thrown at them. ...Huh, that's interesting, I'll have to try that out. Can be found in most forests, solitary, blah blah. Wow, not a whole lot is even known about them," Ezreal commented to himself and slammed the book shut. He dropped it to the floor at his feet, and started on the next one.

"Log of Tesgore. If I remember correctly, he encountered a vampire on his thirty-eighth day out." He flipped to the appropriate page, and skimmed across the handwritten words. "There we go," he murmured when he found the part he thought would prove useful.

She attacked with eyes of red, glowing in the gloom. She was as beautiful as she was deadly, with skin of ivory and fangs of pearl. I knew that night was to be my last, curse my clumsiness in the darkness she revels in! But alas, she fell as I struck her breast with my sword. A pity. I studied my blade but could find no reason for her to be slain by my ordinary steel. I will have to chalk this one up to my remarkable reflexes and capacity for luck.

Ezreal closed that book too, and sighed. Did anybody have any idea about how vampires actually worked? It didn't seem so. This wasn't helping at all. He grabbed the next book, a thick, dry legal tome. If his life was about to be over, he wanted to double-check how over it was and plan accordingly.

It took him four read-throughs to understand the extent of his crimes. If it hadn't been for the uncomfortable pangs of fear-adrenalin running up his spine, he was sure he'd have fallen asleep. He sighed, trying his best to bury the anxiousness, and grumbled out loud: "To sum up, I'll be hanged for dominion over a sapient creature that feeds on humans. The vampire will be drawn and quartered at best, just to keep it from communicating any flaws in our security to other vampires. My family will be exiled to keep them from raising any more dark wizards. All my belongings burned. My name blotted from history. Just to make sure nobody replicates my mistake?! Well guess what, Institute, I don't think anyone could fuck up as badly as I have, even if they tried! Who would want a pet leech anyways?!"

Ezreal threw the book to the ground and laid his head in his arms with a pained moan. What could he do? What were his options?

Should he run now, before they caught on? But he was useless in the forest by himself. He wouldn't last a week out there. He didn't know the first thing about surviving in a wilderness filled with predators who would love nothing more than to feast on his flesh, blood, and soul. He couldn't complete the simplest of wards or summon a spark of heat. And running from civilization was the same as being exiled. You could not return to your home, as it was akin to admitting guilt.

Should he turn himself in and explain that he'd made a simple mistake? They would have to listen to reason. It had been a slip of his blade and a reflexive block, it's not as if he had gone out looking for a vampire to bind. Of course, thinking back, he never should have gone that far in his binding ritual without the unicorn present. He wasn't even supposed to be out looking for a unicorn. In fact, there was no way he could prove he hadn't been out there for the sake of binding a vampire.

So, what then?

He sighed loudly again, and heard a slosh. Oh right, he had to clean that...thing. Ezreal pushed himself out of the desk chair and headed for the bathroom.

The vampire had one leg out of the tub, splashing the muddy foam onto the cottage floor. His grin was evil with amusement at his own cleverness.

"Stop that!" Ezreal snapped irritably, and the vampire returned his limb to the tub with an offended frown. "Now sit up, I need to get the gunk out of your hair."

The vampire did exactly that, making sure to turn his back to Ezreal with a huff. Ezreal could now tell the color of the creature's hair. Silvery white, like moonlight. The mud had soaked out for the most part, but his hair was still thick with tangles, burrs, and what seemed to be small plants. Ezreal pulled one out of his hair, and recognized the scent. Spearmint? How odd. He pulled a few more limp sprigs out, and tossed them on the flooded floor. He had to clean it anyway, it didn't matter.

He tried to card his fingers through, but only tangled his hands in the mess. The vampire's hair still felt gritty, so he pulled the plug and let the first layer of filth drain. He drew a second bath, and pushed the vampire over into the water again. The monster didn't fight it, and simply let himself fall.

Ezreal fished in the cabinet beside the sink until he found his shampoo and a washcloth. It was the roughest cloth he owned, which would be perfect for scrubbing off the vampire's layer of grime. He poured more soap across the man's body, dipped the cloth in the water to wet it, and then started to scrub. The washcloth came away from his body colored brown with dirt, so Ezreal flipped it over and scrubbed on the other side. When the rag was too filthy to continue, he wrung it out in the tub and started again. Soon, the vampire was pink on one side of his back.

"Okay, sit back up again," Ezreal ordered. He scrubbed the other half of the vampire's back until it was a matching shade of raw pink. "Now do the same thing and clean yourself while I wash your hair."

The creature growled with displeasure, but picked up the rag and scrubbed himself to a matching shade of pink. Ezreal dumped a handful of shampoo into the vampire's hair and tried his best to massage the lather into his scalp. When he pricked himself on a twig or burr, he plucked it out and dropped it to the floor with the spearmint. He combed his hands through the vampire's hair, one pull at a time.

It took nearly an hour, but the vampire's hair was finally clean enough to brush. That was no easy feat, however, and Ezreal ended up ripping through several tangles in impatience. The vampire kept growling at the rough treatment, but couldn't do anything to stop him.

Ezreal drained the tub again and drew clean water for a third time. With the soap gone, he opted to turn his back.

"Rinse yourself off, make sure there's no soap left in your hair. Scrub your face one last time with the washcloth. Stand up once you're sure you've scrubbed your whole body, I don't want any of your dirt in my house." He groaned. Lack of sleep was catching up to him.

A splash. Ezreal also stood, and grabbed a towel out of his towel cabinet.

"Dry yourself off," he grumbled. "I'll get you something of mine to wear."

Ezreal escaped the cloud of muck-scented steam and dug through his wardrobe for something too big for him. The vampire was better built than he was, and a bit taller. He'd have to wear pajamas, they were the only garments Ezreal had that might stretch enough to fit him. He pulled out a pair of old, worn, gray sweatpants and a flannel shirt, and tossed them into the bathroom.

"Try to put these on," Ezreal ordered. It was already becoming second nature.

The vampire wandered out of the bathroom in the provided pajamas, the sleeves and pants comically short on him. He couldn't button the shirt or it wouldn't fit around his toned chest, and the waistline hung dangerously low on his hips.

Ezreal rubbed his forehead with one hand. He was too tired for this shit.

"Look, I'm going to sleep. Just...lay down somewhere and rest if you can. If not, don't go wandering around. If you get caught, you die, so don't go standing in front of windows or anything of the sort."

The vampire stared at him blankly, and then his gaze flicked to Ezreal's bed.

"No, you are not getting in my bed. Just...lay on the rug or something." Ezreal waved his hand dismissively, and then climbed under his covers. He flopped face-down into the pillow, still clothed, and let out a frustrated whine.

"My life is ruined because of a stupid vampire," he lamented into the pillowcase.

Said vampire gave Ezreal a dirty look.


	2. Chapter 2: Confine

"Alright class, your allotted practicum week has passed. As you all know, today is the day your first spell will be inspected. Anyone who does not have a familiar of some sort should line up against the back wall so I won't waste my time on you. The rest, you will be required to show your familiar to the class, and to make sure the binding has been done properly, you will order your familiar to do some simple trick. I'll start in the front."

Ezreal loosened his collar. This was it. He had only the time between now and when the teacher reached him to prepare for his life to be over. He'd spent so much time researching this morning that he'd tipped the bookshelf over, but he hadn't found anything that could get out of this mess. Rare illnesses? Nothing strong enough to excuse him from class without warranting a trip to the hospital. There was no way out that wouldn't draw more suspicion.

The front row consisted mostly of kids who had caught mice, squirrels, other small rodents. One girl had brought in the smallest salamander he'd ever seen, and at her word, it sneezed and lit the desk on fire. Once the teacher had extinguished the desk and the students silenced their muffled giggles, she moved on to the next boy. He was known for calling Ezreal a know-it-all on many occasions, and turned for the sake of smirking at Ezreal as he took his familiar out of his backpack.

It was a little black ball of bristles. Then it woke up. It stretched to reveal leathery skin, four red eyes beneath huge pointed ears, and tiny clawed hands and feet. An imp. While they did tend to infest the tops of trees and awnings in the area like little mischievious bats, they were extremely slippery and could disappear in an instant. Catching one was an achievement on its own.

It extended tiny bat wings on command, and hovered by his head before flipping everyone off and diving back into the boy's backpack. The teacher had a few stern words for him.

The boy after him showed off a large bug of some sort, and the girl after him had bound a tiny black kitten. Ezreal was trying not to hyperventilate, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. Only two more people. A girl's badger did a somesault. Just one more.

The last boy had a teensy songbird in a too-small cage. The teacher scolded him for not letting the bird fly free, and when he uncaged it, it flew into her hair. He ordered it back down, and she turned to Ezreal, looking sour.

Ezreal swallowed, and fixed his face into a smile he hoped didn't look too deranged.

"Well? Let's see it, then," she snapped.

Ezreal cleared his throat. "Okay little guy, come out."

A dot of light the size of a fingernail crawled out from under his shirt collar. He glanced around furtively, hoping with all his might that the binding spell wouldn't kick in and drag the vampire to him as well.

"A firebug? And it didn't light your shirt on fire? Hmm. I'll consider giving you seventy-five percent for creativity. Next."

Normally, Ezreal would have argued with her. Firebugs only showed themselves near swamps, at night, when the weather was warm and humid. It had taken late hours and two soaking pairs of jeans to catch just this one. He knew that multiple familiars wouldn't be a problem for him to juggle, especially because firebugs didn't have a nasty temperment or special diet. He just needed something to raise for this class project that was more impressive than a rat. But instead of arguing against her unjust dislike of him, he nodded and sat back down.

She side-eyed him, but said nothing.

"Okay, go back to where you came from," Ezreal whispered, and the tiny bug crawled back under his collar again. There, hopefully that would also keep the vampire from showing up. Ezreal sure hoped his theories on binding magic would work.

He sat at peak attention for the rest of class, ready to throw himself from the window or something if the monster ended up showing himself. It was difficult to feign interest in a girl's toad or the teacher berating and failing those who hadn't taken the time to find a familiar.

Finally, class ended and he felt like he could breathe again. He couldn't let his guard down yet, however, and rushed home to his cottage and his problems.

When he pushed the sticking door in, he expected to be greeted by snarls or glares. But the vampire was sleeping quite peacefully on his rug, head turned towards the fireplace.

"I was worried for nothing," Ezreal sighed in relief. He turned to the bookshelf he'd tipped over that morning while standing on the bottom shelf to reach the top, and sighed. "Hey you," he said, poking the vampire with his foot, "help me pick this thing up."

The vampire grumbled, but didn't stir. Perhaps his orders hadn't been clear enough?

Ezreal kicked him in the ribs. "Wake up, and help me lift this bookshelf back into place," he ordered sternly.

The vampire bolted awake with a snarl, scrambling to a crouched position. He was ready to lunge, teeth bared and one clawed hand held out to the side, poised to take a swipe.

Ezreal tapped his foot impatiently. He knew he wasn't in any danger, and he flaunted that knowledge every chance he got.

The vampire straightened up, and held his head high in a haughty pout. He glided across the small cottage, lifted the heavy bookcase with one arm, set it against the wall, and then flopped back onto the fur rug. He refused to look Ezreal in the eye.

It was easy enough to replace the books that had been tipped out, so Ezreal decided to sort them. Maybe it would be better if he crammed more of the heavy ones on the bottom to help hold it in place? He considered, and then set to work.

When he had finished replacing all but the top two rows, he kicked the vampire again.

"Hey you, put these on the top shelves. I can't reach."

His vampire turned with measured sluggishness, locking eyes with Ezreal and giving him the most unimpressed stare. He got back to his feet, and did exactly what he had been told; but every time Ezreal turned away to fill out worksheets for school, he would turn a few books upside down.

* * *

When night finally fell, Ezreal cooked himself some pasta before getting ready for bed. The vampire still hadn't moved from the rug.

The night was warm, so Ezreal opened his window to let in a breeze. He let the fire burn down to ashes, blew out his bedside candle, and fell asleep in mere minutes.

He woke a few hours later, shivering.

"Hey, vampire," he whispered towards the faint glow of his fireplace, "come here."

He heard the man groan in frustration, and then shifting and the sound of footsteps.

"Come sleep in bed with me, I'm cold."

A deep, angry snarl followed by the weight of a man larger than Ezreal pressing down the mattress was his only response. He slid under the blankets reluctantly, and turned his back to Ezreal. The young wizard tucked them both back in, and the vampire roared in protest when Ezreal's hand brushed his shoulder.

That's right, he had seen somewhere that vampires were cold to the touch. He had been warm when Ezreal had bathed him, and he was warm now. Were the books all wrong?

He had discarded the flannel shirt about a day after Ezreal had given it to him, but he still wore the stretched-out sweatpants too low on his hips. He needed to wash them, and the vampire probably needed another bath. But that could wait, he sleepily mused. Now he was warm, and drowsy, and the vampire's steady heartbeat lulled him back to sleep.

* * *

He wasn't sure how he had gotten there, but when he awoke, Ezreal had curled around the warmth his vampire provided. His nose was pressed to the nape of the vampire's neck, and his chest was against the man's bare back. He'd hooked one arm around his muscular waist, and the other, he'd placed on the man's shoulder.

The vampire was growling again, a soft, low, continuous hum of displeasure. Ezreal didn't know if he should get up as quickly as he could, or pretend he was still asleep.

He chose a third option.

"Vampire, go draw yourself a bath like I showed you," he mumbled. "You reek."

The man clambered out from Ezreal's grasp as if he'd been burned, and glared daggers as he left to do as he'd been ordered. Once the water was running and the monster was preoccupied with his task, Ezreal stretched and kicked off the blankets. He threw on his usual jeans and cotton shirt, and approached the bathroom door.

The vampire was seated, crosslegged, in the tub. His gray sweatpants were still on, and he turned to look Ezreal in the eyes with a sarcastic smile.

"Oh, great, I was about to wash those myself," Ezreal said cheerfully.

The vampire's smile soured.  
"Take them off so I can finish the job," Ezreal ordered, and turned his back. "Don't ruin them or you'll have nothing to wear."

The soaked pants slapped against the floor when the vampire tossed them. Ezreal used his curled toes to hand them to himself without bending over, and dropped them in the wash basin. He dolloped in a bit of soap, and then drew enough scalding water to cover the gray material.

"Here's a washcloth and a bar of soap," he threw the items into the water, making sure to splash the man in the face as much as possible, "clean yourself while I work on your disgusting hair."

He bared his fangs at that comment, then winced as Ezreal dragged a brush through his tangled hair.

As before, Ezreal spent almost an hour trying to work through all the knots and snarls. His hair hung past his shoulderblades, almost to mid-back, and he made no effort to keep it brushed out as far as Ezreal could tell.

"You have girl hair," Ezreal stated plainly. Another deep growl. "Oh, come on, you really need a haircut." The vampire didn't stop growling.

Ezreal dug out a pair of scissors from the drawers where he kept his soap and towels. "This will be a lot easier." He snipped out a great chunk of hair from the back of the vampire's head, and held it aloft. Maybe it would be useful in a spell? Could be fun to experiment with it.

The creature howled as if he'd been wounded, and then fell still and silent. His arms seemed unconnected to the rest of him, as they went on scrubbing and washing as he slumped over himself.

Ezreal shrugged and went back to trimming his silver-white hair until it was tidy and above his shoulders.

"There, much better."

The sorrowful vampire didn't seem to agree.

* * *

"The purity of the silver should be fine," Ezreal muttered, looking up from his table of values and his set of scales and beakers of water. He ran his finger along the page, checking the allotted standard deviation. "Is it the weather? It's been a bit cloudy both nights I went out on the decreasing crescent. Perhaps the juniper was dying and I couldn't tell?" He sighed and fell back into his seat, scratching off his handwritten list with his ink pen. "It's probably because there was a vampire nearby on both nights," he grumbled, and peered at the monster out of the corner of his eyes.

His unwanted familiar was still laying on the rug, using a long stick to poke at the fire. He seemed to be looking through it, not at it, his face more pale and expressionless than normal. His hair had grown at least an inch in the past week, which Ezreal found preposterous. He'd written it down in his notes, however, fully intending to find every factual error written by the authors before him, and correct every last one.

He was a lot quieter about bathing, letting Ezreal wash his hair and back without growling. But he didn't do much else, either. He seemed to have caught a fathomless lethargy within the last week, unwilling to do anything at all unless he was ordered.

"Okay, test thirty-one on vampire hair," he sighed, and wrote the day and test number in his notes. "Burned, ground hair in aqueous phosphoric acid." He picked up a small clump, and let it fall into the beaker. No reaction. He looked at his vampire. No reaction.  
"Null for initial reaction, now to observe over time." He scribbled a zero with a diagonal slash through it, and set the beaker on the back of his desk to join rows upon rows of hair soaking in different colored liquids. He had exhausted nearly every combination of raw and burned hair with every typical reagent, even after sacrificing some fire salts and a few drops of his own blood. He had even started trying acids, which were known for some of the most violent reactions of all. Yet, nothing happened other than what could be expected of dropping human hair into those beakers. And the vampire only reacted when Ezreal cut himself, which was probably a side effect of his binding.

Ezreal sighed again. This was going nowhere. Vampire hair wasn't a useful reagent for anything after all.

He glanced over at the vampire again. What else could he try? Skin? Blood? Saliva? Was he really ready to cut a chunk off of the creature to experiment on? No, not yet, it seemed too...human. Ezreal grumbled and slumped in his desk chair. He rested his forehead on the desk, frustrated and bored. His firebug flitted over his head with a faint hum, and Ezreal waved it off irritably.

"Go away," he grumbled.

The bug reacted curiously, unable to carry out such a broad order, yet trying all the same. It flew around the very edges of the main room in a drunken circle, then tightened the path little by little as if asking for the limit of "away". Ezreal didn't indicate one, so the bug settled on flying just out of reach.

"Land on the ceiling," he tried. The bug had a hard time flipping over while flying, but after two unsuccessful aerial cartwheels, it managed to flip and grasp the rough wood. Ezreal's interest was piqued; how else would his orders affect his familiars? He jotted down a header in his notes, and recorded both orders and their results. He drew a solid vertical line, and in the consequent column, wrote what each effect meant for the sake of rules. The first probably indicated that the bound familiar would try to carry out a vague order, and the second suggested that a familiar would even persist at a task they didn't know how to perform. But what would happen if the wizard didn't make the intended target clear? There was no way the vampire could land on the ceiling, so what would happen if Ezreal vaguely ordered them to do something plausible for both a vampire and a bug?

"Come here," he tried, eyeballing the prone vampire. He didn't mean to turn his attention to one over the other, but he supposed that the added variable might give different results.

The vampire groaned, but dragged himself over to where Ezreal was seated and flopped over Ezreal's lap. Interesting, the young wizard noted, the binding had applied his intentions as well as his words. If he directed the orders at one familiar or the other non-verbally, only that familiar would be made to respond. Very handy for wizards with multiple familiars, he reasoned.

"Your hair is very pretty now," Ezreal said condescendingly, petting the vampire's head. It was softer, finally free of tangles from his previous life the forest. It had only taken a solid week of brushing and bathing and brushing again. Ezreal smiled at a job well done. He wasn't growling anymore. He must be getting used to his new home and his new master, Ezreal figured.

He jotted down the results in his notes. If the binding had applied his non-verbal intentions, then what would happen if the entire order was non-verbal? He quickly wrote the idea down, and then turned to the bug on the ceiling. He imagined it taking off again, and landing on top of his head. He concentrated on the request, trying to beam the command through the air by sheer willpower.

The firebug didn't budge. How strange, so the spell had to be spoken, but could be encoded with nonverbal cues. Very useful. His paper was slowly filling up with cramped notes.

He thought back to his previous orders. The vampire had stayed in bed with Ezreal after being ordered to lay down until Ezreal had given an order that contradicted it. Perhaps orders stayed in effect indefinitely until the wizard made a new set of rules? And the vampire had also jumped into the bathtub with his pants still on, meaning the verbal orders had to be fairly specific or the familiar could find loopholes to be an annoyance if they so chose. It was as if the orders simply limited their options, and from there they could carry them out however they might. These were definitely points to consider.

Ezreal absentmindedly ran his right hand through the vampire's hair as he continued jotting down hypothesized rules with his left.

"I'll have to figure out if all orders last for an indefinite amount of time, or if they have a time limit. That should tell me if I need to reapply any long-term orders," he mumbled to himself, "like telling this vampire that he is not allowed out of this house. Though, he hasn't once tried to leave, so I think it's a safe bet for the moment that orders remain in place until a different order counteracts or directly contradicts it."

He finished his scribbling with a flourish. That was all he dared guess for now. He didn't have enough information, and it was getting late.

"Okay vampire, wash up and climb into bed," Ezreal ordered, and patted him on the head. Sleeping next to the beast was much more soothing than Ezreal had guessed it would be, because of his warmth and how he let Ezreal lay chest to back against him. His soft growls lulled Ezreal to sleep within minutes, and Ezreal usually woke to a calm vampire.

The water ran for a few moments. Just as Ezreal was about to shout at his familiar for wasting the hot water, it happened.

A splat. And then a thud.

Ezreal stood cautiously, his mind immediately deciding that he'd been caught. He didn't know what to do. Maybe everything would be okay? Maybe the vampire had tripped. Clumsy beast probably banged his skull on the tub. He'd be okay. Nobody knew about his vampire. They couldn't know. He'd been so diligent.

He crept into the short hallway between the main room and his bathroom and storage, and craned his head around the doorway, ready to run at the slightest hint of an intrusion.

His vampire lay splayed on the floor, like a dove that had flown into a window. His knees had buckled from beneath him, judging by the way they were bent. His gaze was sightless even though his eyes remained open, and he seemed to stare past Ezreal when he waved his hand before the vampire's face.

The splat had come from a gory chunk of flesh hitting the floor. Where it had come from was no mystery. A section of skin was missing from the inside of his left wrist, and blood was pumping thickly from the deep wound.

Ezreal fell to his knees in panic. He'd never seen this much blood in his life. It trailed through the grout patterning in his tile floor like a foul labyrinth, and was smeared across the vampire's mouth and chest. Ezreal tried to cup his hand over the open wound and hold the blood in, but the vampire wrenched his arm away.

He put the wound to his mouth, and licked vacantly at the laceration.

"Stop! Stop! Just...don't do that, you'll make it worse!" Ezreal shouted in panic. He scrambled for the first aid kit he kept in his cabinet alongside the soap and towels, and grabbed it with shaking hands. It clattered against the bloody tile, and Ezreal ripped it open. He'd only used the small bandages on himself before, so it took a moment for him to find the gauze and tape.

"Give me your arm!" he shouted, and yanked it away from the vampire's mouth. He pinned it against his legs, and wrapped it with gauze until he couldn't see the blood anymore. He taped it down nice and tight, and held his hand carefully over the vampire's wrist.

His breathing and heartbeat finally slowed to normal. His vampire looked a bit more alive now that he wasn't bleeding out all over the floor.

After a moment of rummaging, Ezreal pressed a damp washcloth to the vampire's bloody skin, It took only a moment to clean him off and rinse the small cloth of his blood.

"Come on, let's get you in bed," he encouraged. "Stand up, you can walk, you're gonna be okay now." He hauled the vampire up by his thin hips, and helped him lean his weight on Ezreal. "Walk slowly now, be careful," he chided with worry. He pushed the vampire under the covers, and prodded him until he rolled closer to the window. Ezreal preferred the side closer to the fire.

He returned to the bathroom and put his first aid kit away the way it had been. Then, with a soaking towel, he sopped up the blood on the floor and threw the soiled bundle into his wash basin. It hit the bottom of the barrel with a slap. He would deal with it later. The chunk of flesh was a different matter. Could it be a useful spell reagent? For that matter, did he want to know if it was a useful spell reagent? Did he have it in him to cut his vampire over and over if it did end up being a useful spell reagent?

He threw the skin away.

What had even happened in here? Had he hit his wrist on something? Ezreal wandered around in his bathroom for a few moments, but couldn't find anything that sharp on any surface. How odd.

He tiptoed back into the main room, trying not to disturb the vampire if he had fallen asleep. He snuffed out the candle on his desk and changed into pajamas, then poked at the fire to stir it one last time. He finally crawled into bed beside his vampire and curled up against the comfortable warmth.

"You're not going to growl at me tonight?" he whispered.

The vampire didn't even respond with an irritable snarl.

"Hey, you're gonna be okay," Ezreal reassured him after a moment of tense silence, and reached up to brush the long hair from the vampire's face. Instead, he pulled his hand away when he felt the creature's wet cheek.

Whatever had happened in there must have really spooked him.

The young wizard tightened his arms around the man's torso. He was such a well-behaved pet. Ezreal would make sure he was okay. He had to be okay.

"Don't scare me like that again."

The vampire did nothing but stare at the wall, crying even as he grimaced.


	3. Chapter 3: Sickness

Whoops, I'm sorry it took so long to write this part, certain sections were hard to get just right. But here it is, the next installment! And a quick shout out: much thanks to those of you who leave me such kind reviews, it means a lot and it really motivates me to write more!

* * *

Ezreal woke with his nose pressed against the nape of his vampire's neck. The covers were pulled to one side, leaving Ezreal's back in the cold air. He shivered; the morning was brisk, and he'd left the window open again.

The young wizard reached an arm around his sleeping familiar to steal back the blankets, and retracted his hand instantly. The vampire was ice cold where Ezreal's warmth hadn't reached.

His eyes went wide. Was he breathing? Did he have a pulse? He scooted away in shock, and threw off the blankets to check the vampire for more wounds like the one from last night.

He had nearly bled through his bandage, but there were no new injuries on the man. Ezreal ran his hands over one of the man's arms, then the other, feeling for anything he might have missed. He stopped at the uninjured wrist, and checked for a pulse. Did vampires have a pulse in the first place? He couldn't feel anything, so he moved his fingers to the man's throat. He pressed two digits firmly into the soft skin beneath the man's jaw, prodding until he found a lazy heartbeat.  
He sucked in a sharp breath. The vampire was alive. It made him nauseous to realize he'd been almost excited for a moment there, excited that maybe he would have been rid of his problems. But this was a living thing. Ezreal couldn't just...kill it, could he? It wasn't some bug or food animal. He seemed so...human.

Ezreal brushed the vampire's hair, which had grown past his shoulders, out of his face. What was wrong with him? He had such a weak pulse, and he was obviously getting worse. He pulled on the man's shoulder until he flopped onto his back, limp and lifeless. Where was his growling? Where was his fight? Ezreal clambered over him, shaking him by the shoulders.

He wasn't waking up. He wouldn't stir. Was he too cold? What was wrong?

"Vampire?" he squeaked, his throat tight. "Please be okay."

He had to warm him up. Ezreal closed the window with a push, and latched it. He drew back the shades as far as he dared, letting the sunlight stream through the glass and onto his vampire's ivory skin. He then rose and stirred up the fire, prodding at the coals and feeding it more logs until it blazed. When he was satisfied with the heat pouring from the fireplace, he climbed back into bed.

He tried briskly rubbing his vampire's arms, hoping the friction would thaw him out and increase his circulation. When that didn't work, he tried to share his own body heat by laying on top of his familiar and pulling the blankets over them both. Ezreal clung to the man, shivering violently, but refused to give up.

The vampire cracked his eyes open, and cocked one eyebrow. Ezreal caught sight of his incredulous expression, and a relieved smile spread across his face.  
"Oh g-good!" he chattered, "You must be feeling better."

The vampire replied with a pitiful attempt at a growl, and then let his head hang to the side in defeat.

"It's okay! Just-just rest. I'll try to warm you up."

His eyes closed again and his brow furrowed. He seemed troubled, or perhaps in pain.

Ezreal reached up and stroked his hair, both wanting to comfort his vampire, and marvelling at how much better his hair looked after weeks of washing and brushing. But even that had dulled in the last few days, a testament to his poor health.

The vampire scratched irritably at his injury, rubbing it against the mattress instead of reaching across Ezreal with his other hand. Ezreal watched the movement curiously, wondering how the wound was doing. Perhaps it had gotten infected? Ezreal knew how to make a very simple healing potion, he might be able to fix this.

He resolved to change the bandage and clean the wound out this time. His familiar would be a little more comfortable, at least.

Ezreal crawled out from under the covers, still shivering, and scurried to the bathroom to grab the first-aid kit. He still had half his roll of gauze, and a premade, subpar healing ointment. It would do until he could brew a potion, but where was he going to get cockatrice spit at this time of year?

He returned to the bedside with the wooden box and a small scissors, and sat on the edge of the mattress. Ezreal pulled the man's arm into his lap, and carefully cut the gauze along the outside edge of his arm. He removed it carefully, trying not to tear the dressing away from the skin where dried blood had glued the two together. It came off cleanly after a few moments of picking at the edges, to reveal an oval of discolored skin where the flesh had been missing only hours ago.

Ezreal turned the vampire's arm over and over, amazed by the rapid healing process. Was this what had made him so cold and lifeless? Had it taken a great deal of energy to seal the wound? But he specifically remembered his vampire acting lethargic even before this incident, so it couldn't be that. What could have caused this? He discarded the gauze and replaced the kit's contents, and returned to the bed to puzzle over the vampire's worsening health.

He curled back up on his familiar's chest, leaving the blankets off this time in hopes of the roaring fire and the sunlight contributing more heat than Ezreal could alone. He ran his fingers through the man's hair again, trying to keep him awake with the gentle motion. He kept trying to open his eyes and watch what Ezreal was doing, but each time, they would flutter shut again as the effort became too much for him.

Ezreal's face fell as he became more and more worried about the state of his familiar. Had the binding done something to him? He scanned the room for his firebug, which was still blinking happily as it climbed the far wall. As he watched, it took flight and buzzed around for a moment, then made a beeline for the fireplace and alighted on one of the burning logs. A spark shot up with a pop, and the bug did a split-second aerial cartwheel to catch it. The firebug did this again and again, catching a dozen sparks, then two dozen.

The vampire began to stir. It was quiet at first, as he blinked in the morning light and glared down at the top of Ezreal's head, but soon he was growling at the young wizard.

"Feeling better?" Ezreal grinned. He'd done it, he'd managed to fix his vampire. "Come on, stand up, let's see if I can figure out what's wrong with you."

Ezreal rolled off of the bed and held his hand out. The vampire took it hesitantly, but stood as he'd been ordered with only a little help from Ezreal. The boy helped steady him with a firm grip.

"Take off your pants," he said in a shaky voice. He wasn't sure he was ready to know what vampires had for genitalia, but he needed to figure out what was wrong with this one, and soon. A full examination was necessary, he was sure.

The vampire shot him a glance of unamused skepticism before hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his borrowed pants. Ezreal's face burned red as the man slid the pants off of his slim hips and let them fall to the floor.

Ezreal turned away at first, trying to give the vampire his privacy, but swallowed hard when he realized he'd have to look the man over if he wanted to figure out what was wrong with him. He kept repeating himself in his head, thinking hard about how much he didn't want anything to do with this, but needed to take responsibility anyways. He gulped again, and then turned to face his familiar.

His ribs stuck out too far, his chest looking sunken and his stomach tight and flat under his ribcage. He was holding both hands in front of his crotch, lips pulled away from his fangs in an unhappy snarl. He was shaking, his eyes half-closed with weariness. Ezreal almost didn't have the heart to violate that privacy, but he just had to know.

"I don't want to do this just as much as you, but put your hands down already," he grumbled.

The vampire growled weakly, wobbled, and then balled his fists at his sides. Ezreal managed to give him a quick once-over before hiding his face in his hands.

Why had he thought this would tell him anything? It looked like normal human male parts, he supposed, but he'd still found himself surprised that the man's hair was silvery-white there too.

His face grew three shades hotter. Why was he thinking about his?

"Okay, you can put them back on," he squeaked from behind his hands.

There was the sound of shuffling fabric, and when it stopped, Ezreal peeked out. He clapped his hands back on his face in an instant once he realized the vampire hadn't finished putting the pants on properly, and had been waiting for Ezreal to look as he held the waistband around his thighs and grinned.

"Put them on right!" Ezreal shrieked.

The vampire made the most curious noise, something Ezreal hadn't heard from him before now. He was chuckling; the sound seemed familiar and human but wrong coming from such a dangerous creature. The color drained from Ezreal's face at the noise, and once he was sure the man's pants were on properly, he dropped his hands and stared with a grim face.

It was positively freaky how human it seemed.

His familiar cocked an eyebrow at him, and fell silent. He stood perfectly still for a long moment, and then shivered and nearly lost his balance. Ezreal took one quick lunge forward, and managed to catch him and steady him once again by pressing a hand against his shoulder.

"Lay back down," he suggested in a whisper.

The vampire hissed, stumbled as he started for the bed, and barely managed to flop down on his side. Ezreal arranged the blankets so they covered his back, but left his front open to the heat from the fire. It seemed to help. Maybe he could rest off whatever this sickness was in the next few days if he was kept warm enough.

"I'm going to go take a hot bath, okay?" Ezreal explained slowly, trying not to think about his familiar taking his pants off. "Try to rest, don't get up unless it's an emergency."

Ezreal disappeared into the bathroom before another blush could spread over his face.

The vampire watched him go, too worn down to wonder about how strange the boy was acting.

* * *

Ezreal reappeared almost an hour later, his hair still dripping wet and his skin wrinkled and pink. He sat on the edge of the bed, and pressed a hand to his vampire's forehead. He was still cold, but not shockingly so.

The young wizard went rummaging in his wardrobe for clean clothes. He found one of his old robes he'd been wearing for ages, and figured now was as good a time as any to wear it. It was black and a little too short on him now, but he remembered when he'd bought it for school. He enjoyed waving his arms around in the billowy sleeves. They made him feel like a real wizard already. And besides, they were comfortable enough to wear to bed if he didn't feel like changing again today.

Now, it was time for a little more research. Whatever was wrong with his vampire had to be in one of these books, or at least he would find some hint. He paced back and forth in front of his bookshelves for a moment, disoriented by the upside down spines here and there. He shot a glance of grudging amusement at the lump of covers on his bed, and then started pulling a few books down.

"Complete Medical Handbook, seventh edition," he muttered, and snatched it down. Of course, it held only human diseases, so it was possible he wouldn't find it in there. "Parasitology 207?" he questioned, and took it down as well. Both books were thick tomes with blocks of words on thin paper. He set them on the corner of his bed and scowled as they visibly weighed the mattress down.

Was there anything else he had on animal diseases? He studied the top row, sure he had a book like that somewhere.

"Advanced Farming Techniques. Yeah, there's a section on caring for disease in there." Ezreal smiled, happy he'd remembered which book it was, and carefully un-wedged it from between two other books. He set the much smaller book on top of the pile, and figured this was as good a place as any to start looking.

He moved the stack to the floor beside the bed, and climbed in beside his quiet familiar. Ezreal propped himself up against the headboard, stuffed a pillow behind the back of his head, and stretched out his legs.

"Come here," he whispered gently to the vampire, helping him scoot closer so that he could rest his head on Ezreal's stomach. He bared his fangs at first, but after Ezreal tucked him in, he settled back down with one arm draped over Ezreal's legs and his chest against Ezreal's thigh. The boy scratched the vampire behind his ear, and then ran his fingers through his white hair. He'd figure this out, all in good time.

Ezreal cracked the farming handbook open and flipped to the table of contents. Most of the chapters referenced pen setups and shorthand population equations for livestock, among other things that didn't help at all. But there is was, "Ailments and What You Can Do About Them." Ezreal flipped through a handful of pages until he found the corresponding title, and then propped his forearm up on his familiar's shoulder.

The author described common aches and pains that animals went through over the course of their lives for pages and pages. Ezreal wasn't really interested in the loss of egg teeth or how to trim hooves, but he kept searching, his hand petting his vampire's hair absent-mindedly. It wasn't arthritis, it wasn't any kind of cut or sore. And even when he did find a section that could be useful, it repeated the same information a lot: "Provide fresh hay or oats and clean water for your animal while they rest and recover from their infection." It couldn't be an infection, he had healed too quickly. He flipped a few more pages irritably until he found a section on genetic disorders. The second page was mostly taken up by a diagram of a fainting goat falling over, for some unfathomable reason. Unfortunately, none of this seemed to fit either. It mostly spoke of heart issues, or ducks whose feathers didn't stop growing.

The vampire tipped his head up and studied the page. He tilted his head to one side, and then made his strange weak chuckling noise again.

Ezreal tensed. What was he doing?

"What's...so funny?" he asked, still not sure if the noise was laughter. It sounded like laughter, but it was impossible that the vampire found something funny. They couldn't understand humor, there was no way.

The vampire looked up at him, and pointed at the fainting goat diagram.

Ezreal held his breath, looking, hard, at the picture, and the motion, and the look of what couldn't possibly be real amusement on the vampire's face.

It must be mimicry, he concluded. A predator that mimics its prey can more easily trick those it hunts, and prey that mimics its predators can avoid death. It's just a defensive strategy. A really specific one at that.

His eyes flicked between the picture and the vampire's face a few more times in bewilderment. He was imagining things. He had to be.

The vampire peered up at him questioningly, his brow furrowed in confusion. He pointed at the goat once more, and then grumbled and gave up. He stuck his hand back under the comforter, and didn't look up again.

Ezreal put the book back down. This was only confusing him more. He'd try the medical handbook and see if that got him any closer, and then maybe read for class tomorrow if he figured this sickness out.

He read through page after page of monotonous black text printed in an abnormally small font until his eyes hurt and his stomach begged for food. He crawled out from under his vampire, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully, and rummaged through the ice box. He'd just been to the butcher shop a couple days ago, and there was a thick cut of beef calling his name at the bottom of the box.

He kicked the ice box closed, and unwrapped the twine and brown paper. A bit of blood dribbled out, narrowly missing his robe.

He started the stove fire, and plucked a nice iron pan off of the hook on the wall. He stuck the pan on the flame, and the meat in the pan.

The vampire stirred, curling further to watch what Ezreal was doing. His eyes followed the meat as Ezreal turned it in the pan. He seemed more and more crestfallen as the meat cooked, finally losing interest entirely when the meat had been seared brown.

Ezreal slapped the steak on a plate, fished utensils out of a drawer, and brought the meal back to bed. He got himself all situated, pillow behind his head and familiar curled around his body just like before, and then cut into the meat.

The first bite was perfect, if a bit hot. Ezreal tried to breathe through his teeth to cool the meat down, waving one hand uselessly at his mouth.

The second bite was still pink in the middle, and Ezreal frowned. He liked his meat a nice, even medium doneness, and he didn't like where this was going.

On the third slice, his meat began oozing with red blood. He hadn't quite cooked it enough this time, he supposed, but now he was under this blanket and warming his familiar... It wasn't worth it to get back up and cook the meat longer, he decided. It was still perfectly edible this way.

The vampire peered up as every dripping bite of meat left the plate.

When Ezreal finished his meal, he left the plate on the floor next to the pile of books, and picked back up where he'd left off. Somewhere in the E's? He couldn't quite remember, so he just picked a place on the page and started there.

It took hours and hours, but Ezreal finally exhausted himself when he was halfway through the S section. He was becoming more sure by the minute that his familiar had some new disease affecting his digestive system, or he was having some kind of psychosomatic nervous breakdown. Either that, or Ezreal was completely wrong and he hadn't hit the right disease yet.

He rubbed his face. It was getting late, and he had class tomorrow. Maybe it was time to turn in for the night before he started reading things incorrectly.

He dropped the book back on the pile and stood, nearly putting his foot on his dinner plate from earlier. He picked it up and carried it over to the sink, too tired to bother washing it at the moment, and went through his nightly routine of scrubbing his face and brushing his teeth.

When he returned to the bed once more, his vampire was still peering longingly in the direction of the sink. Ezreal sort of wanted to know what was wrong, but mostly he was too tired to care. He was probably just acting weird again because he's sick, Ezreal guessed.

He curled up beside his familiar again, and fell asleep in his comfortable robes.

* * *

The vampire's condition hadn't changed much when Ezreal woke. He was still cold and weak, but he hadn't worsened overnight. That was as good a sign as any, Ezreal figured.

"Come on, let's get you washed up," he grumbled, his voice scratchy with sleep. He managed to disentangle himself from the vampire's clinging limbs, and stepped out of bed with a bit of difficulty. His familiar didn't budge.

"Get up out of bed," he ordered, "follow me."

The vampire growled with all his might at Ezreal's words, but kicked the blankets aside and crawled out of bed. He stood, took one step in Ezreal's direction, and then fell onto the fur rug. Once he was already on the floor, he seemed to make the best of it and curled up in front of the fire.

"Hey, I said follow me, we need to get you washed up!" Ezreal complained, and poked his shoulder with a toe.

His familiar pushed his upper half away from the rug, but had trouble getting his feet underneath himself. He slipped - and yelped in pain. He tried again, frantically this time, but couldn't lift himself off of the floor. He shouted, and clutched at his head, curling in on himself in agony.

"Stop, stop!" Ezreal yelled, his face white. The vampire instantly fell still, unconscious. Ezreal's hands shook. He didn't have time to deal with this. He needed to get to class.

He splashed some water on his face, ran his hands through his hair, and managed to find a clean robe. He slung his bag over one shoulder and toed on his boots, then grimaced at the sight of his familiar. He couldn't just leave him like this.

Ezreal stoked the fire and added a few logs, then stripped the blankets off of his bed and tucked them around the vampire as best he could. It would have to do for now, or he would be late.

"Please be okay," he pleaded, and brushed the man's hair away from his abnormally pale face. That was all he could do for him. He hoped class would end early, so he could return and take care of his familiar.

* * *

"Class will run late today," the professor reminded them. Several people groaned, but she didn't catch who. "Take out your books," she snapped.

Ezreal leaned over to dig in his bag for the thick tome he hadn't bothered to read. The leather was slippery where previous students had lifted it a hundred times, the spine cracked and brittle. He knew it was about magical creatures and monsters, and he probably should have done more than skimmed it before class started.

He couldn't stop thinking about his poor vampire familiar. Would he be okay? He looked like he was...dying. Ezreal pressed his nails into his thigh, hard, and managed to keep his facial expression blank. What had he done wrong? He couldn't get the image of his vampire curled in on himself out of his mind.

Fifteen minutes had passed before Ezreal realized he was still gripping his leg hard enough to leave bruises. He couldn't stop going over every scenario in his head. Had he killed his vampire? What could he even do with a vampire corpse? No, he couldn't be dead. Ezreal hoped he wasn't dead.

The professor was still droning on and on, pointing at diagrams and drawing arrows on the chalkboard. Ezreal went through the motions, flipping pages at random when he heard his classmates flipping through their books, trying with all his might to take his mind off of the way his vampire looked laying limply across the fur rug.

He switched to biting the inside of his cheek. It didn't help any more than gripping his leg had, so he took to bouncing his knee under his desk.

Had it only been a half hour? Ezreal was sure he'd been turning pages for a millennia or two. He couldn't focus on anything, not even the information he'd normally have eaten up. He thought he heard the professor say "dragons," but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He watched the ornate clock tick down the seconds until he could leave, willing each click of the tiny second hand to be his familiar's pulse. Please don't die, he begged, please be okay when I get home.

"Vampires," he heard the professor say, and snapped to attention in an instant. "The most dangerous predators, second only to dragons. They should be killed on sight or at least reported to the proper authorities so they can be hunted down and executed. They are wild animals, with no intelligent thought. Their only concerns are hunting and killing humans for food or for fun. They have no capacity for language or even emotion. They only look like humans for the sake of getting close, and then snapping your neck and eating your insides." She was starting to get heated now, and Ezreal wondered vaguely if she'd known someone who had been killed by a vampire.

"Do not let your guard down if you travel at night. You are only safe inside the walls of the city. Vampires cannot climb, so your best bet is to find a tall tree if you even have enough time to run from a vampire attack. Now, we move on to Unicorns."

Ezreal waved his hand in the air furiously, trying to get her attention.

"Yes?" she said testily, scowling in his direction.

"Do vampires laugh?" Ezreal asked without thinking. Several of his classmates chuckled nervously, shooting him nervous looks.

"No, vampires have no capacity for language or emotion. They don't think, and they certainly don't laugh. Why would you ask such a thing?" She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, eyebrows drawn.

"Oh, I...I thought I read it somewhere, I guess not!" he sputtered, ending with an awkward laugh.

The professor wrinkled her nose in displeasure, but kept going with the next creature in the lesson.

What on earth had possessed him to ask such a thing? He kept his eyes down, hoping the blush in his face would cool soon. But he knew his vampire had laughed. He remembered it with such clarity. His vampire had seen the fainting goat, and he had laughed.

Ezreal spent the rest of the class in an anxious blur, watching the seconds tick and trying not to think about anything at all. His mind always managed to return to his vampire, pointing and laughing at the goat, and then fading into a pale, still body.

When the professor called "class dismissed," Ezreal leaped over his desk and bolted. She shook her head. Something was going on with that kid.

* * *

Ezreal opened his sticky cottage door with a shove. He dropped his things and kicked the door shut, then turned to the rug. He dropped to his knees.

Blood. So much of it. The vampire was half off the fur rug, laying in a small puddle of his own blood. His chest rose and fell too slowly. His arms were criss-crossed with scratches, and as Ezreal watched, he shakily put one clawed hand to his arm and scratched it. The motion seemed to be too much for him, and he fell still again. The new lines beaded up with blood, and Ezreal felt morbid fascination as he followed the drops gathering together and running down his arm to drip into the pool.

He had smeared his mouth with his own blood as well. It was everywhere, running in rivulets across the cottage floor and moving in ripples as the vampire breathed laboriously through his half-open mouth. He was laying in the puddle, and the sticky mess was soaking into one side of his silvery hair, his face, and his entire arm.

Ezreal couldn't breathe. If this vampire hadn't been dying before, he surely was now.

"Shit," he swore under his breath, "shit shit shit." He couldn't stop the bleeding without bandages or gauze. Did he have enough for even one arm? He would have to take that chance.

He stood and clambered towards the bathroom, unstable and his chest heaving with panic. Towels! Those would work! He grabbed as many as he could find, stuck them under his arm, and tore the first aid kit open. Gauze! Healing ointment! He snatched them up in an instant and scrabbled across the floor to return to the vampire's side.

The vampire's breathing was too shallow now. His eyelashes fluttered as he felt Ezreal tuck a towel underneath him enough to soak up most of the blood, but couldn't focus on him. His eyes rolled back, and he laid still once more.

Ezreal knew he had to stop the bleeding. He wrapped up the vampire's right arm with the remainder of his gauze, praying to any deity that would hear him that it wouldn't bleed through. He then started working on his familiar's left arm, wrapping it with towels and holding them tight. He tried dabbing on the healing ointment, but it had no effect. Ezreal checked the label and, upon discovering that the medicine was old enough to buy itself a drink, tossed it into the fireplace.

"Shit, if only I had that unicorn," he muttered, frustrated. "I could make a salve and it would be okay. You need to be okay."

The vampire growled weakly, and then whimpered.

"Shh shh, it's okay, you're gonna be okay," Ezreal managed, his throat tight. "Why can't I find a unicorn, what am I doing wrong? It would be so useful to have unicorn spit for something like this! Come on, get up, we have to find a unicorn right now!" he ordered.

The vampire's eyes went wide as the binding tried to force him up, but he didn't have the strength. Pain shot through every one of his nerves, but he couldn't manage more than a pitiful whine.

"No! Shit! I'm sorry, you don't have to get up!" Ezreal shouted, clutching the vampire's arm tight.

"Can't."

Ezreal sucked in a huge gasp. Did he just...?

"Hate you. So much pain!" the vampire choked out, one slow syllable at a time as if he wasn't sure what came next.

"So hungry," he whimpered again. And then, in a tiny, pitiful voice: "let me die."

Ezreal didn't dare breathe.

He could talk.

It was a person. He was a person. Not a thoughtless animal. A person.

He had enslaved a person.

He was starving a person.

This person was dying, and it was his fault.

"No, there's no...you can't...vampires don't..." Ezreal scrambled away from the vampire, eyes wide and wild. He spent several long moments trying to work out all the possible implications, but it only made his head hurt.

Now the familiar was whimpering with each gasped breath, trying to pull the gauze and towel away from his arms without moving them. He wasn't getting very far, but his movements were slowing after the exertion from using his voice. His breathing was becoming shaky, and then Ezreal realized - he was crying.

"No no no no no," Ezreal muttered and crawled back to his familiar's side. "How do I fix this? I only know that vampires eat by killing humans! I don't want to die, I don't know what to do!" He hung his head. He had done this.

"Blood...drink..." the vampire managed, and then curled into the fetal position. Then he went limp.

"No!" Ezreal shouted, and slapped the vampire across the face. "Drink! Here, take my life, I don't care, I deserve it!" He pressed his wrist to the vampire's mouth, and howled in pain as the man's fangs drove into his skin.

Already he felt dizzy and lightheaded. After the initial pain died down, he couldn't feel much of anything at all. Was this it? Was he going into shock? Would he be afraid just before he died?

Ezreal couldn't find anything but disgust at himself, between the waves of nausea. How could he have done this?

"I'm s-sorry," he chattered, feeling cold. "Do what you want to me."

He collapsed, his eyes closing as his veins started to burn. All he could hear was his slowing heartbeat and his vampire slurping against his wrist.

Numbness.

Darkness.

And then, nothing.


End file.
